


Familial Love

by deadlyobsessions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Awesome Molly Weasley, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Dursley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Feelings Realization, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kind Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, POV Harry Potter, POV Molly Weasley, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Realization, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Ron Weasley's Room, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Vernon Dursley Being an Asshole, ron weasley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlyobsessions/pseuds/deadlyobsessions
Summary: Harry has been broken out of his abusive Aunt and Uncle's house and flown to The Burrow. But in his first days at The Burrow the Weasley's start to realise the extent of Harry's homelife - and the treatment he receives there.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	1. Mothers' Intuition

Molly Weasley muttered to herself as she enchanted her kitchen knife to start dicing vegetables. Honestly Arthur could be so clueless; enchanting a car to fly was one thing, but letting your notoriously mischievous sons know about it was another. 

Molly's motherly intuition had woken her in the early hours of this morning with the sudden realisation that the Burrow was quiet. Too quiet. Creeping out of an Arthur-less bed - night-raid keeping him away - she had discovered a lack of snores coming from Fred, George and Ron's rooms. Jaded after years of raising the twins, and concerned about their influence on their younger brother, Molly had marched downstairs expecting to catch them stealing from the pantry. When she hadn't found them there or anywhere in the house her heart had begun to race. It doesn't matter how many misguided excursions her sons went on, she would always worry about them. They were her babies after all. With a creeping sense of panic, Molly strode into the dark, across her unkempt lawn, to the tattered shed she had asked Arthur to rebuild two years previous. She grabbed the handles of the paint peeling doors and threw them open. She didn't need to cast lumos to clearly see that that bloody car was missing - along with three of her boys. 

A few hours later, Arthur had received a very tart description of what she thought of that car just after she had sent the returned boys out to de-gnome the garden. Reckless. Stupid. A waste of money. Thankfully her boys had returned safely and no letter had yet appeared from The Daily Prophet saying they had managed to expose the magical world. Molly sighed as she tipped the diced vegetables into a large pot and added stock. What was she going to do with them all? Vaguely she could hear the boys' raised voices in the garden as they lobbed the pesky gnomes into the neighboring field. The one plus is that Molly could now keep an eye on Harry Potter - who had arrived with her boys looking skinny and wide-eyed. He was very sweet, she thought. Always polite and quite meek in comparison from her own sons. He had thanked her profusely for his sausages at breakfast as if they were the tastiest meal he'd ever eaten. Even insisting on washing up the plates until she's given him a task to do with Ron. It troubled her a little, she wasn't sure why. He didn't look very taken care-of, she thought. His worn-out clothes hung off him in an odd way, and his skin looked a bit sallow. And there was what the boys had told her - "They were starving him, mum". Normally she would have put this up as the exaggeration of a twelve-year old but something told her there was some truth to it. With that thought she started buttering some bread-rolls over zealously. 

Molly called up the stairs for everyone to come down for lunch. It had been some hours since Harry had arrived and him and Ron had disappeared into his bedroom. The thundering of feet told her that her children were approaching, so she placed the large steaming pot of soup on the table and began ladling it into bowls. Percy, Arthur and and very red Ginny grabbed their bowls first and settled themselves at the table. Fred and George leaped their way down the stairs, nearly causing Molly to drop the basket of bread rolls all over the kitchen floor. 

"Sorry mum!" They chorused as Fred stole a buttered role, flashing Molly a cheeky grin. 

Ron stumped down the stairs with a curious Harry just behind him. 

"I'm bloody starving. Oi save one for me!" Ron grunted at his brothers who were divvying out the bread-rolls. 

Molly was just taking her seat when Harry's delighted voice sounded behind her. 

"Oh wow, Mrs Weasley. It smells amazing". Quite taken aback by the young boy's earnesty, she blushed. 

"Thank you dear. Now you sit here, and let me get you a big bowl." Molly patted the seat between her and Ron and began serving him. To her surprise, he still didn't sit straight away. 

"You...you don't mind if I have some too?" He muttered. 

"What?..Of course not. I've made plenty for everyone and you must be hungry after the de-gnoming. Sit Harry, darling." Harry sat cautiously at the table and when a large steaming bowl was set in front of him, busied himself with consuming as much as possible. Molly smiled as he ate ravenously. His spiky black hair was quite endearing, she thought, that with his large green eyes and his small frame she was reminded on a raggedy puppy. A little stray. Molly sighed again but smiled. She had always been maternal, and she knew her and Arthur had more than enough on their plates, but she also knew that Harry was one of them now. 

The soup was hearty and filling. Arthur leaned back, rubbing his belly and burying his face in a copy of the days newspaper. Fred and George had disappeared after one bowl to sleep off the evening's antics. And Percy had excused himself, aloof as always about the reason. Ginny, however, had hardly eaten a bite. She kept glancing up at Harry, and when he felt her gaze and looked up, she would reach for another bread roll or a glass of pumpkin juice, avoiding his gaze. On one of these occasions she reached for the salt and clumsily knocked it over. Unfortunately it knocked Harry's bowl just enough for a large splash to stain the front of his t-shirt. 

"Ouch" he yelped, pulling the now boiling fabric away from his body. Ginny, mortified, turned a firetruck read and buried her face in her hands. Standing up from the table she scurried out of the room towards her bedroom. 

"No Ginny, it's not..." Harry tried to console her, but too late. "I'm sorry. Let me wash it. It'll be okay."

"Don't be silly my dear." Molly bustled around the table. "Just slip it off and I can throw it in with the other washing. Ron, go grab one of yours for Harry to wear for now." Ron nodded and clambered back up the stairs to his room. Harry stood awkwardly looking down at the stain. He seemed reluctant. "Come on dear. Just slip it off and Ron will be back soon." Harry paused for a second and then slipped of the old t-shirt. 

"Thank you Mrs Weasley. I really don't mind washing it myself, I don't want to be a bother." But Molly couldn't answer straight away, she was so shocked at what she saw. Although Harry was a skinny, athletic 12 year old boy, his shirtless appearance was shocking. The fine bones of his ribs pushed against his tight pale skin. His collar bones looked hollow, and she could see the outline of his hip bones either side of a concave stomach. Her eyes welled instantly and she had to fight to keep tears at bay. "Mrs Weasley?" Harry's questioning gaze brought her back to their conversation. Molly pointed to a wicker basket by the sink where other clothes lay discarded and cleared her throat.

"Just...pop it over there dear with the other washing. I'll get to it this afternoon." Harry smiled at her and then made his way to the basket. The soon as his back was to her she shot Arthur knowing stare. His face was still buried in an article - 'Regulation Dispute over Mix-Muggle Neighbourhoods'. Molly coughed dryly, trying to get his attention. He had to see this. Arthur looked slowly over to Molly, dragging his eyes away from the paper. 

"What is it, dar...Great Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed the moment he took in the scene. Molly turned around to see what had shocked him. Harry's back was toward them as he diligently began to fold the laundry laying discarded in the basket. His new position exposed the white skin of his back, the points of his spine through his skin and most alarmingly, a smattering of fat pinkish welts and yellow bruises. Their varying shades of red suggested some were more recent than others. And the most recent one sat raw and raised across his shoulder-blade - clearly the outline of a belt. Molly gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. Harry, alarmed by their voices, looked round suddenly. 

"Oh, I'm sorry do you want them folded differently" He asked, a slight tone of panic in his voice as he held Arthur's jumper in his hands. 

"Oh Harry...." Molly managed. "What have they done to you?"


	2. Skin and Bones

Harry's face reddened under the direct gaze of Mr and Mrs Weasley. He folded his arms over his chest, suddenly self-conscious of his boney appearance. He'd spent all summer trapped in his room at the Dursleys' and he knew that he was looking particularly boney and pale. This used to happen every year after summer holidays ended and he headed back to school. Harry remembered the countless times in September where he would change in the back corner of the locker room before football practice, hoping the other boys wouldn't notice his scrawny body from too many missed meals at home. Fortunately, no one had paid enough attention for it be another point of ridicule for Dudley's gang. But this was different, Harry thought. Surely Mr and Mrs Weasley weren't going to make fun of him for being skinny and small as he always had been, even if it was particularly bad this time. Harry gripped Mr Weasley's jumper closer to his body. For a second he considered slipping it over his head to stop them gawping at him, despite it being a bit smelly. He had a creeping sense of dread that he'd done something horribly wrong. He thought he was being helpful sorting out Mrs Weasley's washing basket - Aunt Petunia was so particular about how she liked it. Harry had spent countless hours sorting out lights, from darks. Turning jeans inside out and socks the right way round to be washed properly. But maybe, Harry thought suddenly, Mrs Weasley liked the washing unsorted because she had her own method. Maybe Harry had ruined her system. Suddenly Mrs Weasley rushed towards him. Cold panic washed over his body, waiting for the strike he so often received at home. He had messed up. Harry flinched, gripping the jumper tightly. But instead of feeling a sudden shock of pain, to Harry's surprise, Molly Weasley folded her arms around him in a gentle, motherly embrace. Slowly Harry opened eyes and instead of seeing angry faces, he saw the concerned face of Arthur Weasley as he folded his newspaper and stood up from his chair, making his way over to where Harry and Molly stood. Harry then came to realise that Mrs Weasley was shaking a little, and as she pulled out of the hug, that she was crying. Harry thought this was a little rediculous. Surely he couldn't have got the washing so wrong that she was reduced to tears. 

"I'm...sorry." Harry managed, bewildered by the experience. 

"Don't...don't you be sorry, my dear boy." Molly choked back at him, wiping a tear that was escaping down her cheek. "I..just...I just can't believe..." She hiccuped. 

"I can't believe you've been treated like this." Mr Weasley finished for her. "How long have they been...hitting you, Harry?" He said the last part of the sentence as if the words had got stuck somewhere in his throat. 

"Oh." Said Harry, taken aback by the sudden question. "Ohh!" Harry suddenly realised what the Weasleys must have seen. His Uncle had taken to only striking him across the back or down the back of his legs. And one the initial stinging and discomfort had subsided he would honestly forget they were there. "Oh that...they...It's really not that big of a deal Mr Weasley. I barely notice them." Harry rubbed his neck a bit shyly, secretly wishing Ron would hurry up so he put a t-shirt on. 

"Not that big a deal!" Mrs Weasley blew up. Her rage had returned to her after the initial shock of seeing Harry's battered and underfed body. "Not that big a...It's an outrage!" Harry couldn't help but notice she seemed a bit like a lioness, with her red hair wild and unruly as she roared. "You're in their care, Harry. It's their job, their duty to look after you. After all you've been through as well. On your own in that house. And look at you, you're skin and bone." Mrs Weasley gripped her wand hard and Harry noticed some little sparks shoot from the end unbidden. He had never seen her this angry, not even this morning when they had arrived, illegally, in Arthur's car. It was a different type of anger this time, a towering volcano of rage that seemed to light her up from the inside. "If I ever get a hold of those muggles I'm going to.."

"Molly dear. This isn't helping. Can't you see Harry is obviously confused." Mr Weasley interrupted and was now gesturing at Harry who was looking particularly astounded by her reaction. "Harry, look, this is something that we're going to have to discuss with Professor Dumbledore." He placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, careful to be particularly gentle. "In the meantime I want you to know that you have a place here in our home with us, ok?" Mr Weasley locked eyes with Harry in a particularly intense way and Harry noticed he too was welling up slightly. Harry, embarrassed, decided to stare down at his toe which was peeking out through a hole in one of his socks. "Harry, look at me." Harry reluctantly met his gaze. "You're safe here. And we will on no occasion, no matter what happens, let you be starved or..or hit again. Is that understood." Harry nodded sheepishly, not really knowing what to say, and with that Arthur pulled him into a hug. 

Harry was surprised, but also very grateful when Molly wrapped her arms around them both too. He was stunned to realise this was the first time in his memory this had ever happened to him.


	3. Essence of Murtlap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally realises the abnormality of his childhood with the support if his best friend and his mother-figure Mrs Weasley. But with higher-ups being called, will anything really change for him?

"I couldn't find my Chudley Canons top, so I just brought...erm." Ron had bounded down the stairs to find Molly and Arthur still wrapping Harry in an embrace. 

"Oh Ronald." Molly and Arthur shared a look, not knowing what they wanted to discuss with their son, but then Molly realised there was no point keeping secrets between them. The boys would share everything. "Bring that shirt here, dear. Come and keep Harry company whilst I look for something." And with that Molly wiped her face and bustled off to search through tins on one of her shelves. 

Ron approached Harry cautiously, sensing the particularly charged atmosphere in the room. 

"What happened mate, I was only gone, like, 30 seconds?" 

"Erm" Harry replied, not knowing how to explain the moment he'd just shared with Ron's parents. 

"Sit on this stool, Harry dear." Said Molly, flicking her wand and send a stool zooming over, knocking Harry's knees out from beneath him. She had finally found what she was looking for in a tin on the top shelf, a small bottle of ointment. She set it down on the table and Harry read the label; 'Healing Salve with Real Essence of Murtlap'. 

"What's going on Mum?" Ask a concerned Ron. "Did you hurt yourself, Harry?"

"Hold still." Said Molly Weasley, daubing the salve onto her fingers and then beginning to gently rub it into Harry's back. Harry winced at the cold of it on his raw skin and then sighed. He hadn't truly realised how irritated his skin had been rubbing against his shirt all day, he was so used to tuning it out all summer. Ron, curious as to what the fuss was about, peered past Harry's shoulder. 

"Bloody hell, it does look bad this time mate." Ron said, concerned about his friend. And he wasn't wrong. Although the murtlap was already reducing the redness it had very little effect on the bruising mottling Harry's back. 

"What do you mean 'this time', Ron?" Asked Mr Weasley quickly. 

"Erm, well" Ron shot a furtive look at Harry, asking permission, Harry nodded. "He was bruised in first year. When I met him. I kept asking why he changed on his bed with the curtains drawn. Before Quidditch practice and stuff. So Harry showed me." Ron rubbed his ears awkwardly, not knowing if he was saying what he wanted his parents to hear. "But it wasn't this bad." He finished quickly, seeing his mother's expression. Molly sat heavily in the nearest chair. 

"You're telling me this has been happening for over a year. And you didn't think to tell us?" Mr Weasley sounded half-exasperated and half-distressed. 

"It's not Ron's fault Mr Weasley, I told him not to tell anyone. Like I said, it's not that big a deal." Said Harry, jumping to Ron's defense before his parents had cause to tell him off. "Anyway, it's not like it started this year. It's been going on my whole life." The was silence for a moment before Mr Weasley, heavy with this revelation, sat down too. 

"Harry...this is a big deal." Mr Weasley rubbed his head with his hand, looking distraught. "I'm...I'm going to go talk to Dumbledore at once. See if I can contact him on the floo network. Get him to come here. This is something I want to talk to him about in person." And with a new sense of purpose Mr Weasley stood up, gripped his wife's hand for a moment and strode out of the room before Harry could protest.

Harry just couldn't understand it. How could this require Dumbledore's presence? Why was this making Mrs Weasley cry? He'd complained to Hagrid in first year about the Dursleys, and it was common knowledge now that he hated having to return to them over the holidays. The fact that he'd been sent off to live with muggles after his parent's death was knowledge across most of the wizarding world. Surely someone would have stepped in before now if it really mattered.

"There's no point calling Dumbledore." Said Harry defensively. 

"Why not, my dear?" Asked Molly. 

"He's not going to do anything. He knows I hate the Dursleys, everybody does." Molly sighed, staring at Harry for a moment, obviously thinking what to say next.

"Harry, we knew you didn't like the Dursleys. Merlin, I guess they may be unkind to you or suspicious of magic. Muggles sometimes are. Arthur and I were considering coming to pick you up next week if you hadn't answered any of our letters. But..." Molly paused, not knowing how to explain it to this 12 year old boy. "Nobody knew they were hurting you, Harry. You're only 12 years old and you should never have had to go through this kind of abuse."

The final word made Harry's heart drop into his stomach. Immediately he felt his face flush red and a lump start forming in his throat. He'd never called it 'abuse' before. Not to himself, especially never out loud. Not wanting to accept what Mrs Weasley had said and feeling a sudden rush of emotions boil up in him, Harry retorted;

"Well what did you think was happening?" Hot tears started to well in Harry's eyes. "Has everyone this whole time thought I was complaining about nothing? Just whining." Ron and Mrs Weasley were quiet, surprised by this sudden outburst. " I told people....I told people I hate them. That they were cruel." 

"Yes Harry, but we didn't realise that meant they were beating you..." Harry cut her off. 

"Well how was I meant to know that? I didn't know it wasn't normal." Nobody had a response. "Hogwarts knew I used to live in a cupboard, it was on my letter." Mrs Weasley gasped, for some reason enraging Harry more. He felt like his reality had been shattered and he was desperately trying to cling onto the pieces. Had no one in his life believed him? Had they all assumed he was just a kid whining about too many chores. "Are you telling me you've never been hit?" Harry turned on Ron, who looked like a dear stuck in headlights. 

"N..no." He shook his head.

"That you've...that you've..." Harry was fighting back sobs now. The weight of what he was realising was finally crashing down on him. "That you've never been hungry." Ron shook his head again.

"Oh Harry." Said Molly, reaching out to hold him. But Harry pulled away. 

"And that!" He said gesturing to Molly's out stretched arms. "I've never had...never been...hugged like that."

"Ever, mate?" It was Ron now. He seemed timid, and was looking at Harry with a pitiful stare that made him boil with rage. Harry couldn't manage words this time and instead shook his head furiously, biting his lip. Hot tears started pouting down his cheeks. "They don't even let me eat with them." He managed to say, staring at the ground, unable to meet their pitying gazes anymore. "They just push food through a flap in my door.". And with that Harry broke. Years of loneliness and mistreatment crashing down on him at once. The injustice of it all stung like a fresh wound he had just opened. Molly rushed forward and crushed him into her arms, cradling the back of his head with one hand. Ron joined and Harry was once again, smothered by Weasleys. 

Crack! The three of them jolted with the sudden, unmistakable noise of someone aparrating into the Weasley's garden. 

"Dumbledore." Murmured Mrs Weasley.


	4. A Game of Chess

Harry sat slumped and cross legged on Ron's bed losing badly at a game of chess. It was strangely quiet in the room, broken only by the occasional hiccup from Harry that Ron was politely ignoring. Dumbledore had arrived nearly an hour ago and they were confined to upstairs whilst the adults spoke. For a while there had been a lot of raised voices coming from the kitchen - Mr and Mrs Weasley arguing furiously about something they couldn't quite make out. Fred and George had come up to inform them that there was definitely a muffling charm being used as, despite how much they pressed their ears to the door, what was being yelled about never became clearer. They had started brainstorming a plan about climbing out the first floor window and listening at the backdoor when they caught a sight of Ron's warning expression and Harry's red eyes. Silently the twins had retreated to their rooms, mumbling something about inventing a device to listen at doors conveniently. 

Harry stared down at his complaining chess pieces, not even trying to guess at what they were talking about downstairs. He felt defeated. Almost as if someone had let all the air out of him like balloon and suddenly left deflated. Unthinking, he pushed a bishop across the board only for it to be instantly decapitated by one of Ron's knights. Something about the realisation of the magnitude of his mistreatment at the Dursleys' had hit him hard. He felt stupid. Harry knew that it wasn't normal for children at his school to go home and slave away at chores, be forced to stay out in the scorching heat to weed the garden. He was pretty sure most of the kids at his schools had never even missed a meal. But he'd never put all the pieces together that he was actually...abused. Another tear escaped down his face but he brushed it away quickly with his sleeve. Ron noticed and for a moment he looked like he was going to say something comforting, but instead pushed his Queen forward on the board. 

"Checkmate." He said after a pause. Harry with hardly enough energy to respond, simply slumped back onto Ron's pillow and stared up at the Chudley Canons poster zooming above him. "Do...do you think you'll come live with us now?" Ron managed. Despite the grim mood, Harry was happy to detect a little hope in his voice. 

"Mmm...I don't know." The truth was Harry didn't dare believe that he could move in with the Weasleys'. The prospect was just too happy for him to consider. He knew that if he started hoping that, if it didn't come true he'd feel crushed all over again. And something about Dumbledore's face when he had stepped into the Weasleys' kitchen early told Harry that there already wasn't a chance of him leaving the Dursleys'. As he'd been x-rayed by his headmaster's twinkling blue eyes something in them told him that the answer was no. 

"That would be great if you could." Said Ron enthusiastically. "We could try to fit your bed in here." Ron had stood up and started pacing the room, working out the best position to fit another bed. There was nowhere obvious to put it. "Or maybe we could have a bunk-bed. Oh no, I guess the ceilings too low. Or if I put my chest of draws in the hallway then your bed could go here." Ron lay down on the floor of the room, trying to demonstrate how comfortably Harry's new bed would fit. Harry could help but let out a small laugh at his obvious eagerness. It was good to spend time with Ron again. Harry had forgotten how easily they got on, and what it was like to have someone that was always on his team. Harry's smile faded a little. Ron noticed. "Look Harry, even if you do go back to the Dursleys, you can visit here whenever you like. Plus I'll ask Dad to get someone at the ministry to look into that house-elf for you. Dodgy or whatever his name was. That way we'll still be able to write, and you can tell us if you need...yunno...someone to come get you." He trailed off. Obviously thinking about what Harry would have to go through for him to have to ask for help. 

"It's just so unfair." Said Harry, sitting up from where he was on Ron's pillows. "I already, well you know, I already lost my parents." He gulped down the lump in his throat again. "Why did I get stuck with the worst Aunt and Uncle ever? Nevermind my cousin beats me up all the time too."

"You don't choose your family, mate." Said Ron, jumping up from the floor and taking a seat next to Harry on the bed. "My Great Aunt Muriel's a bloody nightmare and we definitely didn't choose her. I know that's not as bad as you, mind, I just..." Ron seemed a bit flustered. "It's just about who you choose to spend time with, isn't it. And I know my family are more than happy to have you around." Harry smiled weakly at Ron, who smiled right back. "Especially Ginny, she's delighted." Ron let out an amused snort and Harry a little chuckle. 

At the same moment, downstairs, Molly Weasley was far from laughing. She had just stood up from the table, where Dumbledore and her husband sat drinking from a chipped tea cups.

"You can't possible be saying to my face, that you're going to be knowingly sending that boy straight back to those evil, good-for-nothing pieces of filth he calls family!". She stared incredulously into Dumbledore's eyes, refusing to be intimidated by his steady gaze.

"As I have said, Molly." He replied in a very measured tone. "I'm afraid we have no choice." Molly let out an indignant cry and slammed her palms on the table, rattling her own discarded cup and saucer.

"It's an outrage! How could you?" 

"I can promise you Molly, I receive absolutely no joy sending the boy there. Especially coming from an unpleasant home-life myself. Unfortunately Harry's protection in the form of blood magic is too powerful to discard and I truly believe may save his life in the long-run." 

"Oh what fu--"

"Careful dear." Warned Arthur, trying to keep the peace. "But honestly Professor Dumbledore..."

"Albus, please." He interjected kindly. 

"Well...Albus..." Started Mr Weasley, obviously taken aback by being first name basis with the head of the Wizengamot. "Surely we could come to an arrangement to take him. We're happy to have Harry here. And maybe there's some way around this blood magic thing. Perhaps if he spent one afternoon there, under supervision, it means the magic can still be active but he doesn't have to endure anything more." Arthur was trying to be level headed but was clearly struggling as much as Molly with the idea of allowing Harry to go back to the Dursleys.

"Normally I would jump at the opportunity, as you have so graciously opened your home." Dumbledore shot Molly a twinkly smile, obviously hoping to difuse some of her rage. "Unfortunately, from my research on the subject, it seems as if Harry has to still be able to call the household 'home' for the family link to remain. Therefore I must insist that he stays there at least two weeks every..."

"Two weeks!"Shrieked Molly. "Two weeks without anyone to watch over him! He could die in that time. You should see him today Dumbledore..."

"Albus, please."

"Dumbledore." Molly spat back, not in the mood to accept Dumbledore offers of friendship. "I don't think they've fed him for days. He looks like an inferi. I could count his ribs. And the marks on his back from where that beast of an Uncle..." She stopped herself, so overcome with rage she could barely speak. Dumbledore seized the opportunity, also rising from his seat to speak eye to eye with Molly. 

"Don't, for a second, think I won't be talking with them." There was a power in Dumbledore's voice now that chilled Mrs Weasley. "I made them promise to look after a precious, innocent child. A child who had lost everything. And they have betrayed my trust. I will be sending a reminder to Harry's Aunt about the promises she made me." Locked in his gaze now, Molly could see that what she had taken as his cool indifference was actually Dumbledore's expertly repressed rage. She shivered, glad that she wasn't on the receiving end of his wrath. "You may not understand, and I accept that you may be angry with me. But Harry cannot know about this blood magic. He is too young, and too inquisitive. And this information may lead him down a path of knowledge he is too young to truly understand yet. It would do him nothing but harm." Molly didn't agree with Dumbledore, in fact she was still furious with him, but something about the sincerity in his voice made her trust him. She sighed, and then nodded curtly. "Thank you.". Dumbledore softened, and he was back to the twinkly old man sipping tea. Molly sat slowly back in her seat. Her cup of tea was cold but she cradled it with her hands to have something to do. "Molly, Arthur, if I haven't asked too much already..." Dumbledore looked at them both imploringly. "When Harry is able, I ask, that he does come here. I couldn't think of a better place for him where I know he will be looked after. He will be scared, and hungry. He may be lonely, or angry at me or the world. But I ask you, nay beg you, to please show him love. For this may be the only place he has ever seen it." 

Molly reached across the table and took Arthur's hand.

"We will...Albus." 

Dumbledore nodded reverently and pointed his wand at Molly's tea cup, heating it up again.


	5. A tall man in an orange room.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry speaks with Dumbledore about his future with the Dursleys. 
> 
> Sorry about the break between posting. The whole world is falling apart. Lol.

Harry stared up at the fiery orange ceiling of Ron’s room. His eyes followed a particularly fast witch zooming across the Chudley Cannon’s poster directly above him. She snatched a quaffle out of the air with an exhilarated expression, flashing a smile. Harry felt far from smiling. He was lying sprawled out on Ron’s bed, feeling weak from crying and the crushing reality of what Dumbledore had just told him. 

About half an hour earlier Ron had just convinced Harry to join him in another round of chess when a light knock came at the door. 

“Come in Mum, we’re just playing chess.” Ron had called out absentmindedly, pondering whether losing his bishop was worth his next move. But instead of the warm tones of Mrs Weasley a far more measured voice came through the door. 

“Ah, terrible sorry to disappoint Ronald but it is in fact your headmaster.” 

Ron and Harry’s heads whipped around to find Albus Dumbledore silhouetted in the doorway, a bashful smile across his face. Ron’s ear’s turned scarlet red. 

“Oh...erm...”

“I hope I’m not interrupting a particularly riveting game.” Dumbledore remarked calmly, gesturing to Ron’s battered chess board. There was an awkward pause whilst Ron tried to process having Dumbledore stooped under his sloped ceiling.

“Ron was just about to lose a bishop.” Interjected Harry and, to his embarrassment, his voice sounded rather raw from crying. 

“Yes, I can see that. Although there is a way out of it if he is as cunning as I hear.” Ron went, if possible, even redder at this remark and stared blankly back at his chess board. 

“Oh...wait.” Ron suddenly grabbed a knight and blocked Harry’s Queen. With a little triumph he announced. “Check!”

“Very good move.” Dumbledore said, soundly very genuinely impressed. “Now, I’m sorry to be very impolite as I understand this is your room Mr Weasley, but would you mind giving Harry and I a little time to chat…” It was, Harry noticed, a genuine question. He felt like Dumbledore would have been perfectly accepting if Ron had said no. Ron looked nervously at Harry for a second. “I promise I won’t help Harry with his next chess move.” With that he flashed a twinkly smile. 

“Yeah...of course...Professor.” Said Ron, awkwardly. Getting up off the floor he left the room, having to squeeze around Dumbledore in the crooked doorway. Harry and Dumbledore listened as his feet thundered down the stairs. Harry couldn’t help but be a little amused by the sight of Dumbledore in the cramped space. He was quite a tall man, so Ron’s sloped ceiling made him hunch over, the tassel of his hat disturbing a dusty spiders web. His silver hair and blue eyes stood out against the orange-red inferno that was Ron’s collection of Chudley Cannon posters. He surveyed the room with an appreciative gaze. 

“What excellent self-expression.” He remarked. “Joyous.” He focused back on Harry who still sat, cross legged on the floor. “You will excuse me Harry if I take a seat on the bed, this room was not made for someone of my stature…” Harry nodded and watched as Dumbledroe ducked under a beam and sat politely on Ron’s crumpled covers. .”..and I wish to talk to you.”

He locked eyes with Harry for a moment, and Harry knew what was going to be said. 

“I have to go back - don’t I?”

“As much as it pains me to say so, unfortunately you do.” There was silence in the room for a moment. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about this revelation. Over the last hour he had daydreamed, somewhat subconsciously, that he might finally be leaving the Durselys. A long-future with the Weasley’s had stretched out in front of him. Cooked breakfast every morning, socks darned by Mrs Weasley and pats on the back from Mr Weasley. Even disdainful looks from Percy seemed welcoming. A family. But that wasn’t going to happen. Suddenly the image of Harry’s lonely, undecorated room at the Dursley’s flashed into his mind. The hours of silence. He felt his eyes well up again but not wanting to cry in front of Dumbledore he gulped it down. 

“I think - I think I knew that.” He said into the silence, picking at the worn rug on Ron’s floor. 

“You are very intuitive, Harry.” Dumbledore said gently. “I have to say, it is not because I want to send you back. The reasons are - complicated - but I promise I will explain them to you when you are older.”. 

This infuriated Harry but he felt too weak to get truly angry. Instead he nodded, still staring at the carpet.

“But I must insist, Harry, that you spend at least some of your summer under the care and supervision of the Weasley’s in this excellent house.” Dumbledore gestured to Ron’s room just as the ghoul banged loudly on the pipes above them. “I have spoken to Mrs Weasley and it is all arranged.” 

Harry smiled weakly but still didn’t raise his head. Every summer with Ron. That was good at least.

“Harry.” The intensity of the way Dumbledore pronounced his name was enough to make him look up from the thread he was twiddling from the carpet. To his surprise Dumbledore was no longer seated on the bed but was in fact knelt on the floor, eye level with Harry. “I need you to know that I will be speaking with the Dursleys…”

“Don’t!” Harry interjected, taking himself and Dumbledore by surprise. “Please Professor, if you spoke to them they would only be more angry at me.”

“And why would that be the case?” 

“Because...because they would know I had told people about…” Harry gestured vaguely to himself, not really having the ability to voice what he meant. About the starvation. About the beating. 

“About how they treat you.” Offered Dumbledore helpfully, but a flash of something like anger coloured his eyes for a second. Harry made a sort of throaty noise of agreement. 

“Anyway, they don’t like magic so someone like you turning up..” He stopped, worried he had gone too far. But Dumbledore seemed unfazed. 

“You are worried that if someone like me turned up, a very obvious Wizard, if I say so myself. They would be angry and take it out on you.” Harry nodded. “Well, you have my sincere promise that I will act with tact and discretion.” Harry looked at him, unsure of his meaning. “I will not do anything rash that will provoke them to treat you more harshly, especially if you have asked me not to. But you must understand, that I cannot do nothing - for one thing Molly Weasley would never let me forget it.” He smiled encouragingly at Harry and Harry smiled weakly back. “Now I will leave you so you can continue your game with Ronald, as I see his chess board is getting impatient.” Harry watched as a black knight brandished his fist at Dumbledore, obviously mad that the game was being delayed. Dumbledore stood, as well as he could in tight space and made his way to the door, but he stopped before he left. 

“And Harry. I hope, that when you understand, that you will forgive me for doing this.” Dumbledore’s expression was astonishing earnest, and for a moment Harry felt like he truly did empathise. But what would Dumbledore know about dreading going home. About never being accepted. “I would not send you to them if I didn’t have to.” And with a final fatherly smile he swept from the room with a swish of his midnight blue cloak. 

Harry was left cross legged on Ron’s floor. The bit of carpet he had been playing with came off in his fingers and hung as a loose bit of string. It was so unfair. Harry thought. Something inside him wanted to scream and shout, stamp his feet and clang pipes like the Weasley’s ghoul. But instead he sat there staring at the piece of string. Defeated. 

“Harry dear.” A gentle voice brought him out of his trance. It was Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway, he hadn’t heard her coming in her house slippers. She cradled a steaming mug in her hands and the warm aroma of hot chocolate wafted into the room. “Professor Dumbledore’s just left.” She paused, uncertain how to proceed. “Come get into bed. The floor can't be comfy.” Harry, just happy to be told what to do with himself, stood up and made his way over to Ron’s bed. Mrs Weasley pulled back the covers and he climbed in. Tenderly she tucked the bright orange bed spread under each of Harry’s arms and offered him the hot cup of coco. He took it and smiled weakly, the warmth bringing some feeling back to his fingers. 

“I fought for you, Harry.” 

He hadn't expected this and looked up at Mrs Weasley. To his surprise he found that her eyes were as red and puffy as Harry’s had been earlier. She had obviously been crying. About him? He thought. Whilst talking to Dumbledore? She looked at him with a ferocious intensity.

“If it was up to me you would never see those…” She stopped herself from saying something cutting. “...seeing them again.”. She reached a hand up and gently pushed some of the dark strands of his forehead. It was a caring touch.” And Dumbledore told you you’re welcome here every summer?” He nodded. “And whilst you’re here you remember you’re part of the family, alright. You come to me if you’re hungry, or cold, or you need anything. I mean anything. Promise me?” Harry nodded again, not sure if the warm feeling inside was from the hot chocolate or from Mrs Weasley’s motherly gaze. “Now, I’ve told Ronald and the twins not to disturb you until dinner. So you have a good sleep...today has been tough so no doubt you need it.” And to Harry’s embarrassment and secret delight she kissed him on the forehead and bustled out of the room. “By the way, it’s chicken pie for dinner.” She shouted up the stairs as she left. He heard the twins’ joint cheers from a few floors down. 

Harry lay his head back against Ron’s cushions and watch the Chudley Cannon’s chasers wiz across the glossy poster. Secretly glad he had some time to himself. He sighed and thought about future summers with the Dursleys. About the hungry hours in his room. The fear he felt if he accidently broke a plate or dropped a cup. Then he thought about Mr and Mrs Weasley’s expressions when they saw his back - bruised and boney. Dumbledore’s deep, unfathomable empathic gaze. It's flashes of anger. What was he not allowed to understand when until he was older. If he knew there was a reason to stay with the Dursleys' surely it would make it easier for him to bare it, he thought. Slowly, heavy with the day, Harry drifted into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this work or want to see anything in future chapters, please feel free to comment. I will try to include requests where I can :) stay safe out there x


End file.
